Happiness Is a Warm Gun
by Neo Genesis1
Summary: There were just some things, some people that had a gravitational pull. Like black holes. When it came to Billy Darley, he was supermassive. And once you fell past his event horizon there was no being saved. :Rated for lang/violence/adult situations:
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer**: Don't own Death Sentence or any of the characters associated with the movie and the novel it was based on. Anyone else you see is mine.

**A/N**: It only took me about four months to get this first chapter finished. Writing pages and pages of text with different approaches, trying to figure out what was going wrong. I almost decided to can the whole thing, but many late nights and thought diarrhea made me realize that my fascination with Billy and Lady (OC from The Sweets one-shot) hadn't left me yet. So I tried again, and in about three days I had this beginning. I'm not sure that I'm completely happy with how it turned out, but it's a start and that's better then nothing.

At the moment I don't have a beta for any of my DS fics, so please let me know about any glaring mistakes. And feedback is always love.

Chapter 1  
October 2001

She wasn't the kind of girl that missed much. Couldn't afford to living where she did and surrounded by the kind of people she knew.

Despite this, when it all went down, she didn't see it coming.

One second she was standing at the bus stop watching as Perry lifted up his shirt to show off his new ink work, a portrait of his daughter, and his teeth were bright in the poor light from the street lamp. Then death came for him in the form of a late model Crown Victoria and a single barrel shot gun.

She didn't remember the first shot. But she did remember the screaming.

Perry's smile faltered as he tried to take air into lungs that were suddenly riddled with holes. She reached out to steady him as he bowed over, but a blur of movement out the corner of her eye caught her attention. She turned her head just in time to see Chuey throw his entire body at her. The world titled dizzily as another shot rung out. Her feet left the ground and she tried to brace herself. But his weight came down on her and it was too heavy. Something in her left wrist pulled with a sharp twist and she cried out, grinding the side of her face into the cold cement as she tried to curl into herself.

He rolled off her and got to his feet, didn't even spare her a second glance as he pulled his pistol from the back of his jeans and started returning fire. Perry was still standing somehow. And even over the guns and the screaming, the sound of the bubbling wheeze coming from his mouth was agonizingly loud. He looked down at her, moaned something that could have been anything, before crumpling face first to the ground.

She squeezed her eyes shut after that. Thought about how less then ten minutes ago she and Precious had been sharing a blunt and hauling ass across six blocks so they wouldn't miss the bus. Now her friend was yelling herself hoarse and Perry was probably taking his last breath and Chuey's gun was no match for the scattering buckshot of a shotgun and-

A screech of tires and one last pop from the pistol and it was all over. She cracked open her eyes but stayed down. Chuey was hunched over, hands on his knees and breathing hard as he watched the car speed down the street and around a corner.

"Fuck!"

The smell of burnt rubber and gun powder was heavy in the air. It coated the back of her throat as she attempted to get up. But she forgot about her wrist and went back down again with a yelp of pain.

"Shit, Lady." She felt his hands on her shoulders before he rolled her over to get a better look. "You alright, kid? You get hit?"

"No. Just my wrist." She said and let him pull her up into a sitting position. Precious scrambled over, eyes big and still wet from crying.

"You sure? You're covered in blood."

She looked down at herself, realizing for the first time that her white coat was splattered in red. She hurried to remove it and Precious reached out to help when she fumbled the buttons with her one good hand. The autumn air bit at her skin as she pulled the ruined material off, but her work uniform was clean.

"I'm alright, P." She gulped, pushing her friend's hands away. "It's not mine."

Something in her stomached lurched as the faint sound of sirens filled the air. Chuey muttered in Spanish as he dropped his empty gun and got on his knees to turn Perry over. There was blood everywhere, soaking through his tan leather jacket and pooling onto the sidewalk under him. She could see right away that he was gone but something compelled her to reach over and check for a pulse anyway.

Chuey cleared his throat, "Is he-"

"Yeah."

She crossed herself. Chuey did the same. Precious sniffed loudly before grabbing her discarded coat and throwing it over his body, hiding the gaping hole in his chest from view. The sirens in the distance were getting louder and Chuey looked around nervously.

"I gotta go. Can't be here when the cops show up." He picked up his gun, thumbing the slid stop so it snapped back into place before stuffing in into the back of his pants. "Gotta tell Darley what happened. Fucking Fairburn's looking for a war."

Precious got to her feet and held out a hand to help her up. Chuey gave them both an indecisive look, like he didn't want to leave them alone.

"We'll be alright. Take his stash and get the hell out of here." She urged. He nodded, reached down into Perry's pockets to pull out a roll of money and a handful of tiny, plastic bags.

"You two know the drill. You don't know who was shooting. You don't know why. Don't tell 'em a thing that leads back to the RB." He frowned, looking over his shoulder when someone poked their head out the doorway of the apartment building behind him.

"You got that?" He demanded when he turned back around.

"Of course." Precious answered. "Now get out of here."

One last uncertain glance and he turned on his heel and started to run, pushing past curious onlookers that were coming out now that the bullets had stopped flying.

Precious took in a deep breath. "Jesus! I mean, what the fuck?" She ran shaky fingers through her hair.

"I don't know P."

She could still taste gun smoke in the back of her throat and there was something wet running down her forehead. She reached up to wipe it away and her hand came back covered in blood that wasn't hers. Her stomach gave a final, violent flip and she ended up puking into a nearby trash bin.

The next hour was a blur of flashing lights and twenty questions. They parked Precious in the back seat of a squad car with a blanket and a cup of coffee. She could see her from her own seat in an ambulance as the EMT wrapped her wrist and tried to get all the sidewalk grit out of the scrap on her cheek. The officer speaking to her friend had a tenseness to his stance and shoulders that screamed frustration. It was obvious whatever she was saying wasn't giving them much to go by.

"Here's some Ibuprofen for the swelling and an aspirin for the pain." The EMT said while handing her a bottled water and a cup with three pills. "It's just a bad sprain, but you still may want to get a brace to wear for a few days."

"Thanks." She said as she tried to twist of the bottle cap. "Could you give me a hand here?"

"Oh yeah. Sorry." He gave her a sheepish grin as he opened the bottle. "I'm sure they'll want to take your statement now. You feel up for that?"

She shrugged as she swallowed the pills down with a huge swig of water. "I'm good."

He hoped down to the pavement below and made his way over to an older guy in a long coat. She watched them wearily as they talked quietly for a few seconds before the coat made his way over to her with a grim face.

"I'm Sergeant Detective Bernard." He said as he pulled out a pad and pen. "You're friend over there tells me your name is Jeanne."

"Yeah." Shivering slightly, she crossed her arms over her chest to try to ward off the breeze that was blowing through the open doors. "Jeanne Auguste. But everybody calls me Ladybug."

"Look, Miss Auguste, your friend gave us the same bull shit everyone else in this neighborhood does. 'I saw nothing and I heard nothing.' Now I can't do my job and catch the kids who killed your friend if you don't tell me anything." He paused and leaned in a little closer, brows angled down towards his nose. "That _is_ you friend the coroner is looking over, right? The one with his chest blown out?"

She frowned, not falling for his attempt to get a rise out of her. "He's just some corner pusher that would chill with me and Precious when we had to catch the late bus."

"So he was a dealer then?"

"I don't know. He was always hanging around the block, talking to people who pulled up. I just assumed that's what he was doing." She sighed. "Look, I don't know who was shooting at us or why. All I know is that Perry got hit and that other guy shoved me down. Saved my life too. 'Cause that second shot would have been me."

"Yeah, about that other guy. You got a name for him. A description maybe?"

"Something Spanish. Like Chico or Chavez. I've only met him once or twice. Perry usually worked alone. He took off once the car peeled out."

"And the car. Did you see anyone inside? Get a color or a license number?"

"A chocolate color, maybe. Older car." She shivered again. "Are we done now? I'm cold, I'm hurt, and covered in a dead man's blood. I'd really like to go home."

He pressed his lips together before slapping the leather notepad close. "Sure thing. But if you remember anything at all you give me a call. Doesn't matter what time."

She took the card he pulled out of a pocket and made a show of looking it over.

"You got a phone on you so I can call a cab?" She asked.

"Don't worry about that, kid. You just go sit with with Miss Anderson. I'll send an officer to escort you two home."

She eased out of the ambulance and made her way through the bustling badges and crime scene members as they collected evidence and talked to witnesses. Precious was standing outside the squad car when she walked up, a cigarette hanging from her lips and a steaming cup in her hand.

"You look like shit, you know that right?"

Her voice sounded a little rough and Lady wanted to tell her to put the cigarette out but she grabbed the cup from her instead. "Shut up."

"Just saying." She blew out a puff of smoke that quickly dissolved into the air around her head. "Guess who's driving us home."

"Who?"

Precious grinned. "Our very own Officer Natasha Wallis."

"Oh, this night just keeps getting better." She shook her head before climbing into the back of the car. Precious followed behind her a few seconds later, smelling like menthol and smoke as she tossed her the discarded blanket.

"So this is pretty big, huh?" She asked, looking over at her with serious eyes. "This thing with Fairburn?"

She took a sip from the coffee. "Yeah. They've been hurting ever since Bones pushed into their territory with ice. I guess they're looking to get their corners back."

She humphed and settled down into her seat. They fell into a comfortable silence, both gazing out the open door a the commotion surrounding them. Lady kept her ears trained on the voices coming out of the radio in the front seat, translating the codes in her head. It was mostly the usual stuff, domestic disputes, noise disturbances, and drunks. But one in particular made her pert up.

"_This is Fox 113. I've got a 8 Ida of a possible suspect in the West Ninth Street shooting._"

"Shit." She groaned, leaning her head back on to the uncomfortable seat.

"What's the matter?"

"I think they picked up Chuey." She pressed her fingers between her eyes, feeling the beginning of a headache forming. "He never made it to Darley's."

"So who's gonna tell him what happened? If they did pick him up, they're gonna send him straight to county. And with that gun and all that crank on him..."

"I know." She said. "I'm gonna have to tell somebody. Maybe my brother is at his place. You think I can convince Natasha to drop me off there?"

"Don't know, but you're about to find out. She's walking over right now."

She turned her head to see the older woman stop next to the car and lean down to look at them. "Hey Precious. Ladybug. Long time no see."

"Sup Officer Wallis? How's the whole badge and gun thing going?" Precious asked, the sarcasm dripping from her voice.

"It's going good. I'm about to take the Career Review Board exam to make detective." She narrowed her eyes a little. "How's school? Are you still going to be able to graduate with the rest of your class? Last time I saw your mother she said you might have to go to summer school."

Precious sniffed and jutted out her jaw. "That woman talks to much. And what I do in school is no business of yours."

"Sure." She chuckled at little. "How about you Lady? The EMT said you wouldn't need a x-ray, but I can take you to over to Boston Medical just to make sure."

"No I'm good." She gave her a week smile. "Actually, I was wondering if you could drop me off a Bodies."

Natasha sighed. "I don't think that's a good idea."

"You know I can't go home like this. My mom is probably up right now getting ready for her shift at the bakery. If she sees me like this she'll lock me in the apartment until I'm thirty. Would even go as far to home school me."

"Ladybug-"

"_Please_."

She looked her over for a few seconds and Lady could almost see her thoughts turning in her head. "You know something, don't you?"

"Everything I know I told that detective."

Natasha frowned. "Street justice doesn't work. All it does it get more people killed. Tell me who's gunning for the RB and let the cops take care of it."

Lady locked eyes with her. "I don't know who it is."

"Fine." Natasha stood up and slapped the roof before shutting the back door hard enough to make the car shake.

Precious snorted. "I think you made her angry."

She shrugged and leaned against the window. "She'll live."

It wasn't a long ride, but it was quiet and after giving her the address she drifted off and didn't wake up until Precious jabbed in her side with her elbow.

"Nice place your brother has. I see he's moving up in the world." Natasha said as they pulled up in front of the run down brick building. Lady sat up, tilting her head to ease the ache in her neck.

"You want to let me out, or do I live in here now?"

She saw Natasha roll her eyes in her reflection in the rearview mirror as she cut off the engine and climbed out the car.

"I'll call you tomorrow, P." She said as her door was opened.

"Sure. And take care of yourself. Your really do look like shit."

"Screw you." She replied, smirking a little as she slid out into the chilly night air. Natasha stood beside her and she raised a brow at her while reaching in her pants pocket to pull out her keys.

"Well, thanks for the ride. Guess I'll see you around."

"For your sake, I really hope not." She replied.

"Night, officer. Good luck on that test."

Not waiting around for a response, she cut across the sparse grass and made her way into the building. Taking the stairs two at a time she arrived at the second floor, which wasn't as well lit as the first but was blessedly empty as she made her way down the hall to her brothers apartment. There had been too many times in the past that she had to skirt around drunks and thugs with twitchy hands.

There was a piece of paper taped to the door and she shook her head when she read the word 'eviction' printed out in bold letters.

"Idiot." She muttered as she slid the proper key in the lock and tried to turn it. When it wouldn't budge she tried again. Letting out a frustrated growl, she banged her fist against the wood before rested her forehead against it.

"Fucking A." She huffed before pushing away and heading back down the hall. There was a pay phone across the street and she had just enough change for one call. As soon as she walked outside goosebumps popped up on her exposed skin. Stuffing her hands under her arm pits, she jogged across the pavement to the phone. She fished the change out of her pocket and shoved it into the slot, dialing her brother's cell phone number with with fingers that were quickly becoming numb before turning around to watch the street behind her.

"Come on, Bodie." She muttered. But after the fourth ring she pressed down on the hook switch and collected the coins from the return slot.

"Damn it!" She put the money back in, hesitating only a second before pressing a different number into the keypad. It rang twice this time before a husky, irritated voice answered.

"_Who the fuck is this?_"

"Billy!" She shifted to see the street again. "I need your help. I'm at Bodie's and he's been kicked out again. I tried to call him but he's not answering and things are all messed up and my damn key won't work-"

"_Hey, slow the fuck down and take a breath, Lady._" He ordered and she bit her bottom lip, suppressing the urge to snap back at him. Instead she did as he said and inhaled deeply. Once she collected herself she started over again.

"I need to talk to you." She told him, slower this time. "Some shit happened and Perry's dead. But I don't have a ride and I can't go home like I am."

"_Go back inside and wait for me to honk. I should be there in about ten_."

"Yeah. Okay. But hurry up. It's freezing out here."

He said something that sounded like a name she wouldn't appreciate being called before the line went dead. She pulled the phone from her ear, frowning down at it before hanging it up. Crossing the street again, she hovered in the doorway of the complex building, watching every car that went by and chewing on her bottom lip to the point it was raw. She wasn't an impatient person by nature, but being tired down to her bones was quickly changing that. The adrenaline rush from earlier had drained her of all reserves and the few minutes of sleep she'd gotten hadn't helped much. So she stood there, counting down the seconds in her head, secure in the fact that he would be there in less time then what he'd said. Because when it came to reading speed limit signs, Billy was just plain blind.

She'd just gotten into the 300s when she saw a white van stop abruptly at the curb. A loud blast from the horn got her moving and caused some nearby dogs the start barking. She made her way to the passenger door, pulled it open and hauled herself in, barely getting the door closed before they were speeding off.

"Thanks." She said and grabbed her seat belt. Billy grunted around his cigarette and stopped sharply at a red light. She could feel him looking at her and she started to speak but cut herself off when he reached over and grabbed her chin in one hand.

"The fuck happened to you?" He turned her face to the side to get a better look at the bandage.

"Got into it with a sidewalk." She said and pulled away, rubbing at her cheek self-consciously. "I lost, obviously."

He blew smoke out of the corner of his mouth as the light changed. "You're shaking like you need a fix. Grab that jacket in the back and put in on."

She rolled her eyes at him as she unbuckled herself and shuffled into the back, trying to keep her feet under her as he made a wide turn.

"What's with the rape van, Billy?" She asked once she'd grabbed the worn leather and pulled it on, shoving the sleeves up so her hands were free.

"Figured since I was picking up underage tail, I might as well go all out."

She huffed, sliding back into the seat and nuzzling into the collar of the jacket. "So if I look hard enough, I'll find the wine coolers and camera?"

"And the duck tape if I decide I don't want to play nice."

She laughed a little, the first time since her evening went to hell, and saw him smirk out the corner of her eye.

"Bodie has the Mustang. He had some business to take care of. Probably why he didn't answer his phone."

She nodded. "That business wouldn't have anything to do with Fairburn, would it?"

"Should it?"

"Seeing as how they're the ones that put Perry in a body bag, I think so."

He glanced at her, pulling his finished smoke from between his lips and tossing the butt out the open window. "Why don't you take it from the beginning, Ladybug. 'Cause you're busted up to hell and one of my boys is dead, and I have not fucking clue what's going on."

So she told him, starting from when she and Precious got off of work and ending with Wallis giving her the third degree before dropping her off. He didn't say anything as she talked, just kept his eyes on the road. But she did notice his clenched jaw, and the seemingly permanent frown of his deepening. When she was done he pulled out another cigarette.

"You sure it was Mack's ride?"

"Late 80s Ford. Custom slate gray paint job." She shrugged. "I'd know that car anywhere."

They drove into the parking lot of his apartment complex and he found a spot under a blown out street light.

"Looks like I do have some business with Fairburn." He said as he threw the van into park and turned off the engine.

She swallowed before getting out of the car, not waiting for him as he dug a bag out the back. She didn't like it when he got that look. The one that spoke of hunger and hunting. It always lead to things that would keep her up at night, stomach twisting in knots with worry for a bunch of boys that were pretty much family. She crossed the parking lot and waited at the bottom of the metal stairs that lead to his door.

"You're staying here tonight." He told her when he caught up. She followed him up and he unlocked the door, kicking it shut behind him before tossing the duffle onto the breakfast bar. The place smelled like stale smoke, weed, and teenaged boy. She saw Joe sitting in the living room, wearing nothing but a wife beater and boxers with a bottle of beer between his feet and a game controller in his hands.

"Hey, Lady." He greeted her, his eyes never leaving the television screen as his thumbs moved furiously.

"Sup?" She mumbled, easing down onto the couch next to him with a tired sigh. Billy disappeared down the hall into his bedroom, returning a few minutes later with a bundle of clothes and a towel draped over his shoulder.

"Here." He said as he tossed them down next to her. "Take a shower and get some sleep. You can have my bed."

She blinked at him as he grabbed the bag off the counter and fished his keys out his back pocket. "Where are you going?"

"Don't worry about it." He said.

"Billy-"

"I need my jacket back."

She sucked in a frustrated breath before pulling it off and tossing it at his feet. "Tell my brother to call me when you see him. And that he's a idiot for getting evicted again."

Gathering up the clothes and towel and ignoring the curse he threw at her back, she shut herself in the bathroom. She didn't bother to look in the mirror, just turned on the taps and stripped down. The water felt perfect enough that she was able to ignore the mold growing in the corners of the tub and the fact there was no shampoo. She made do with half a bar of Irish Springs though, and by the time all the suds where out of her hair she was practically asleep on her feet.

She dried off as best as she could with one hand before rewrapping her wrist and pulling on the clean clothes. The shirt came down almost to her knees and hung off one shoulder while the sweats had to be rolled over at the waist a few times. But they were warm and comfortable so she didn't fuss.

When she finally crawled under Billy's flannel sheets the alarm on the night stand said it was almost four. She closed her eyes, glad the night, or morning, or whatever was finally over. Down the hall Joe started yelling at the TV and she groaned while pulling a pillow over her head. Even with the racket, it didn't take long for the familiar smell of burnt tobacco and cologne to lull her to sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer**: This claim, it has been dissed.

**A/N**:There are going to be quite a few terms (mostly gang related) thrown around in this fic, so I've started marking the ones that might not be familiar to some readers with numbers. The definitions can be found at the end of chapter footnotes.  
And as always, feedback is welcomed and loved.

Chapter 2

C10H15N.[1] Those were the elements of his life.

Billy peeled out the the parking lot, ignoring the industrial sized bottles of drain cleaner, alcohol, and lye that tipped over in the back of the van. He had one hand on the steering wheel while the other dug in his jacket pockets for his vibrating phone.

He had too much on his mind. Numbers and measurements, chemical balances and ratios. Bones breathing down his neck for crystals that rivaled what the Chinese where bringing in. And now this shit with Fairburn. He finally pulled out the phone, sniffing through his nose that hadn't been the same since he started cooking drugs and inhaling all the fumes.

"What?" He answered, not bothering to look at the caller ID. There was a cacophony of sound coming through the other end and he squinted his eyes as he tried to make out who was speaking.

"_Billy, we got a problem!_"

"No shit?" He snorted, wedging the phone between his ear and his shoulder so he could light a cigarette. "Where the fuck are you, Bodie?"

"_I was heading back the The Kitchen. But when I pulled up into Pine I saw all these fucking fire trucks. The shit's gone, man. Up in smoke._"

"What the fuck you going on about?" He eased off the gas some and turned down the radio so he could hear better.

"_The Kitchen. It's gone. Burning_." Bodie answered. "_Half the fucking street is on fire. I can see it from three blocks away_."

Billy ground his teeth together, flattening the filter in his mouth as he made a quick U-turn before pulling into a 7-Eleven, tires squealing on the pavement. A middle aged man pumping gas gave him a disapproving look as he parked the van next to the air pumps and he glared back at him until he turned back to his car.

"Who the hell was on guard tonight?"

"_TG_." Bodie said. "_And I haven't seen or heard from him. Hope the little shit wasn't in that house when it was lit up._"

He exhaled, blowing twin streams of smoke out through his nostrils. "Get out of there and round up the boys. Meet me at my place in thirty. And you better not be fucking late."

"_Okay dawg_." There was a pause, "_You know what the hell is going on_?"

A drive by and their lab going up in flames all in one night. He had a pretty damn good idea. "Just get to the apartment. I'll fill you in there."

He hung up before he could get a response, tossing the phone onto the passenger seat with a scowl. He turned off the engine and got out, the rubber soles of his engineer boots thumping against the oil slicked ground as he headed for the convenience store. The guy that had been eyeing him a few seconds ago had his back to him as he passed, waiting for a receipt. Billy took one last drag from his cigarette before tossing it into the open sun roof of his Audi.

He nodded at the chick behind the counter when he entered, bypassing the aisles of junk food and and headed straight for the coffee machine. Movements jerky with anger and lack of sleep, he filled up the largest cup he could find. Not bothering with a cream or sugar he grabbed a lid and took a sip, burning his tongue a little as he walked back to the front. The girl eyed him wearily as she rung him up, smacking on a piece of gum in a way that made her look like a cow. He reached in his pocket for his wallet after another sip, pulling out the smallest bill he could find.

She looked at the fifty with a sigh and flicked a blue lock over her shoulder. "I can't make change for that."

He narrowed his eyes. "You're fucking joking, right?"

She shrugged and pointed to a sign tapped to the bullet proof glass separating. 'No Bills Larger Then $20 Before 10 am.'

He shoved the money through the slot. "Keep the change. Maybe do something with that fucking mess you call hair."

She sputtered some insult at him as he headed out the door and walked back to the van. It took four tries for the engine to turn over and he cursed the whole time before it finally caught. It had become a recurring problem the past few days and would only get worse as the weather got colder. He'd have to get under the hood eventually to suss out the problem but that would mean spending time at the body shop. He didn't plan on being within a couple hundred feet of his father for more then a few minutes until it became absolutely necessary. As long as the van started at got him to where he needed to go, it wasn't a pressing matter.

He turned the radio back up, flipping through the stations until he found one that didn't have annoying early morning hosts yapping off at the mouth. The classic rock station was playing Aerosmith, which did little to settle his nerves. He took another sip of coffee before stuffing it in a cup holder and pulling out of the gas station.

The old Ford ate up the road as he sporadically clenched his jaw. The air blowing through the window was cool and moist, the kind that smelt like pre-dawn. He figured the sun would be up in another hour or so, and once again he'd be awake to see it. Eyes bloodshot and gritty, hands shaking from too much caffeine, and that familiar pain behind his forehead throbbing with every heartbeat. There had been too many nights, or mornings (or what-the-fuck-ever) like that lately. He couldn't even remember that last time he gotten a decent amount of sleep. Over the summer was a pretty good guess, when he'd drank damn near a fifth of Jack at a cookout. Heco's cousin, Lucinda, had dragged him to a back room and they spent most of the night and early morning hours sweating out the alcohol and making an impressive imprint of the headboard in the wall before he finally passed out and didn't wake up until almost a day later.

He smirked at the memory while running a red light and ignoring the angry honking of a bakery truck driver that had to swerve to avoid a collision. That had been a good weekend, until Bones found him and dragged him out the bed. He didn't go into one of his usual demeaning, abusive tirades. Instead he hauled him to his feet only to knock him off of them with one meaty fist to his nose, ordering him to get back to work. Billy was lucky the hit didn't break anything. But the cut Bones' ring made bled for almost any hour before he took the nail glue Lucinda offered and sealed it shut.

He thumbed the still raw scar the wound left behind as he pulled into a parking space at the apartment complex, turning off the engine just as Hendrix's cover of 'All Along the Watchtower' came through the speakers, assuring him there must be a way out.

"You might be right Jimi, but forgive me if I don't take your advice." He muttered to himself as he grabbed his cell and climbed out the van with the duffle bag in hand. "You choked on your own fucking vomit and died. So your way out of here isn't exactly the exit I'm looking for."

Bodie was waiting for him a little ways down by the Mustang, hands stuffed in the pockets of the dark hoodie he was wearing. He lifted his head up in greeting as he walked over, checking over the car for any new damage.

"She's fine." Bodie huffed. "I even filled the tank up."

"Good." He said. "Everybody inside?"

"Almost. Tommy's old lady fell down the stairs last night and broke a hip or something. He's still at the hospital with her."

"That old broad needs to kick the bucket already." He tossed the bag at his chest and Bodie caught it with a small grunt and a frown. "Come on."

He started for the apartment and after a few seconds he could hear the scuff of Bodie's sneakers as he followed him. The front door was unlocked when they got to the top of the stairs and he frowned as he walked in, seeing the crowd that had amassed in his sorry excuse for a living room. He gave them a cursory glance before rounding the corner of the breakfast bar into the kitchen and pulling a beer out of the fridge.

"Find something to do, Joe." He ordered as he walked towards the only empty chair in the room.

"I am doing something." Joe protested with a slight whine as he held up the game controller.

Billy shot him a glare. He had little patients for teenagers and Joe needed to grow out of his unnecessarily defiant stage quick because brother or not, he'd still kick his ass.

"Find something to do in _another room_, Joe." He reiterated, voice low and eyes narrowed. Joe scowled and threw the controller on the coffee table before getting up and stalking down the hall. His anger would have been more effective if he wasn't still in his boxers, showing off knobby knees and skinny ankles.

"Boy needs to drink some protein shakes or something." Baggy muttered as he moved from the armrest of the couch to the now empty seat. "Ain't never gonna be able to survive a beat in[2] if he doesn't put on some pounds."

"Fuck it, we got more important things to be worried about." Billy said as fished his lighter out of a pocket and used it to pop the cap off the bottle in his hand. If he had his way Joe wouldn't have any part of the gang. But the kid was fifteen now and Bones was making it quite clear that it was past time for him to really start getting involved in the 'family business.' And Joe was only too eager to agree.

He took a swallow of beer while looking at the five other men in the room. The RB was only a small fraction of his fathers empire, but he liked to keep mum about it. Didn't want just anyone on the street to know how deep his roots on the crime tree went. He allowed Billy to have complete control of the crew as along as he had complete control of the money they brought in. Which was fine for both of them when the selling was good and nobody caused any trouble.

They had trouble now, though. And if his gut feeling was right (which it almost always was) it went a lot deeper then it looked. He and Fairburn's leader, Mack, had a history. It was shaky at best but they came from the same streets and messed up backgrounds and survived, which automatically bred mutual respect. If it was corners they wanted, Mack would have enough sense to negotiate for them instead of spilling blood. But if a RB member had caused a problem...

"So which one of you assholes pissed off Mack enough for him to torch the lab and shoot up one of our corners?" He asked finally, leaning forward in his seat so that his elbows rested on his knees, the neck of the bottle clenched between two knuckles.

He wasn't expecting an answer right away. There were a lot of people involved in their operation and he knew them all, but didn't always interact with them. There was a good chance that someone lower in the order of things was responsible for the whole mess and hadn't owned up to it. That was easy to deal with. But if it was one of the OGs[3] in the room, a veteran like himself, then no good was going to come of a solution. He trusted these men. Had grown up with them, bleed with them, killed with them. He didn't like it when he had to make an example out of one of them. If the loss of the lab and Perry's death was one of their fault, the punishment would have to be harsh. As in 'body never being found' harsh. Bones wouldn't be satisfied any other way.

They exchanged looks with each other, no one speaking either out of innocence or fear of being guilty. Billy took another sip of his beer after watching for something other then confusion and weariness on their faces. He knew his boys and could tell when they were lying or hiding something.

"So," he said finally, "I take it that none of you are responsible for what happened."

It wasn't a question but they responded anyway with shaking heads and a few muttered negatives. His eyes flicked to Bodie who was leaning against the wall by the television with one foot propped up behind him.

"There was a drive-by on our corner at West and Ninth. That's how Perry got popped. Your sister thinks Chuey probably got pulled in by the cops after he bounced."

Bodie started. "Shit, Lady was there? Where's she at, Billy? She alright?" He pushed away from the wall.

"She's sleeping in the back. Just banged up her wrist and scratched her face a little."

Bodie made as if to go down the hall and Billy shook his head. "Hey, let her rest. I need you in here so we can take care of this clusterfuck. And she doesn't need to be involved."

Bodie scowled, opened his mouth as if to protest then closed it just as quickly. Taking a deep breath he nodded and settled back against the wall.

"How does Fairburn come into this?" Heco asked, running a hand across his recently shaved head. "I get that somebody's trying to send a message, but it could be any of the those fucks that don't like how we do business. B-Street's been itching for retaliation ever since we put Big Tony in a wheelchair."

Billy leaned back in his chair. "Ladybug said it was Mack's Crown Vic."

"We did relieve him of some prime real estate when we took those corners." Baggy added. "If I were him, the first thing on my list would be making sure there's nothing to sell on the spots I want back. Burning the lab makes that as good as done."

"And the drive-by?" Spink asked as he lit a cigarette. "That's not really Mack's style. He'd rather stick us where it hurts. Putting holes in a few pushers ain't enough. Guys like Perry are at the bottom of the food chain. Expendable and easy to replace."

"He's right." Bodie nodded. "Mack wouldn't take the risk of getting caught unless he was taking out someone important. One of us, maybe."

"Where the fuck does that leave us, boys?" Billy sniffed. "Shit's got Fairburn written all over it."

"Don't feel right." Dog spoke up for the first time. "All we know for sure is someone's gunning for us. We shouldn't do nothing drastic 'till we know what the hell is going on."

"So we do nothing?" Baggy asked, clearly agitated. "Just sit here with our thumbs up our asses waiting for the next move?"

Billy sat his beer down on the table. "No. We get people to start talking. What's that bird's name that works down at the precinct? The secretary?" He looked in Spink's direction

"Angela," He supplied for him.

"Yeah. Pay her a visit. Tell her to keep an ear open about The Kitchen. I need to know how much was lost and who they're looking to pin it on. If she even thinks the cops are looking our way I want a call. You got that?"

"Sure Billy." He nodded.

"Heco and Baggy, I want you to start spreading the word to the rest of the gang. If they're working a corner I want them carrying heat." He paused and rubbed the back of his thumb against his forehead in an attempt to ease the ache that was building. "We've got one guy dead and another missing. I don't give a fuck who's behind this. They're not taking anyone else out without a fight."

Bodie cleared his throat. "I'll round up some boys and do inventory. Check up on the reserve stashes to see how long we can keep selling before we need to start up another lab."

"You do that. And take Dog with you." He grabbed his beer to finish it off just as his phone started to vibrate in his pocket. Seeing the name that popped up on the screen he clenched his teeth.

"TG," He growled after answering, "You remember that conversation you and I had about what would happen if you fucked up guard duty?"

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the line before a voice that was clearly not TG's spoke. Gravely was the best way he could describe it. Rough from smoke and hard liquor with a slight brogue buried underneath.

"_There's a package for your father outside your door. Make sure he gets it._"

The line went dead. He pulled the phone away from his ear and tossed it down on the coffee table before standing and reaching for the .38 special he kept hidden behind the television console.

Bodie immediately eased off the wall and reached for his own piece. "What's going on?"

"Don't know." Billy replied, thumbing back the hammer on the revolver. "Somebody's playing games."

He moved towards the door and took a quick look through the peephole, seeing nothing but the graffiti covered brick wall of the apartment across from his.

"Don't see nobody." He said as Bodie moved up beside him.

"You sure?"

He answered with a wry face before yanking the door open, aiming his gun left then to the right of the walkway. It was empty except for a figure laying supine on the concrete floor in front of them.

"Shit," Bodie exclaimed as he moved through the doorway. "It's TG."

Billy slid his gun into the back of his jeans before stepping out into the hall. If it wasn't for the Star of David tattooed on one wrist he wouldn't have been able to tell who he was. Lips split, both eyes swollen to slits, and the usual tan skin a patchwork of red and black bruises, the poor bastard might as well have been wearing a Halloween mask. Whoever worked him over made sure it was thorough job.

"He alive?" He asked as Bodie prodded him in the side with his foot. TG let out a pained groan, turning his head as it ended in a labored cough.

Bodie looked back at him. "Guess so. We should move him inside."

He rubbed at his forehead again. "Go wake your sister. She's into playing doctor."

Bodie moved back into the apartment, brushing past Heco and Dog as they moved through the doorway.

"The fuck happened to him?" Dog asked, the yellow overhead light of the walkway reflecting off his sunglasses.

"Grab his arms. Heco, get his legs." He ordered without answering the question. He watched as they bent down and lifted TG off the floor. He made a sound of protest and reached up blindly with one hand as if to fight them off. Struggling, they shuffled inside and put him on the couch where he settled down with a drawn out moan. Taking one more look outside Billy followed them and shut the door.

"Looks like he put up a fight." Heco remarked and pointed to the scrapped up knuckles of his left hand. "Good boy."

Billy grunted, paying more attention to the bulky ring on his thumb. "That ain't his."

He walked over and pulled it off, holding the silver band up and frowning at the elaborate Celtic cross formed out of the metal that looked so familiar.

Heco reached over to grab for it but Billy moved out of the way, slidding it into his jean pocket.

"What is it?"

"A message. For Bones."

Seeming to get the hint, Heco backed of and turned his attention to Bodie and Lady who had just stepped into the living room. She looked at them wearily with eyes puffy from sleep.

"It's a little early for a troop meeting." She managed to get out around a yawn.

"I need you to do a patch up." Billy pointed to the couch while moving into the kitchen to grab the first aid kit out of a cabinet. He sat it on the armrest just as she knelt beside TG, yanking at the collar of the too large shirt she was wearing.

"What happened to him?" She asked while running fingers lightly over a swollen cheek. "His face looks like mincemeat."

"Does is matter? Just fix 'im." He growled, digging in his pocket for his smokes. She looked up at his with narrowed brows.

"He needs a hospital, Billy. Not a seventeen year old with basic first aid training."

"Don't you intern at some clinic?"

She scuffed. "Yeah, and all I'm allowed to do is take temps and blood pressure." She pointed in TG's direction. "_This_ is a little beyond my education. He needs x-rays and probably a MRI with all this head trauma. A bandage and a few pills isn't going to fix this."

"Fine." He gave up on the cigarettes and grabbed his keys instead, tossing them down on the table. "Someone go pull up the van and get him inside. Lady, put some shoes on and ask Joey for a shirt that will fit ya. You're coming with me."

She stood. "We going to the hospital?"

"No." He grimaced at the idea. "Now hurry up."

She mumbled a curse under he breath that wasn't in English but headed for Joe's room without any protest. He turned to see Bodie giving him a questioning look as Spink left to get the van.

"Thought you didn't want her involved in this."

He shrugged and picked up his phone to write a text. "Just taking her to the Butcher. Might be able to learn a thing or two."

"Billy-"

"Nothing's gonna happen to her." He pressed send on the phone and snapped it shut just as a horn sounded from outside. Heco and Dog reached for TG again, who seemed to finally be out because he didn't even flinch as they carried him towards the door. He just hung between them like a corpse.

Lady walked out of Joe's room wearing a green sweat shirt and glanced in their direction. "Let me get my shoes and we can go."

Bodie waited until she disappeared into his bedroom before sighing. "My mom's gonna freak when she sees that wrist."

"Yup." He agreed as she reappeared in the hallway.

"You ready?"

She shrugged. "Guess so."

He headed for the breakfast bar, opening up the duffle bag that Bodie had left there and pulled out a roll of money. Looking back at the room he scowled.

"You guys get to work. And keep your phones on. I want to be updated."

Lady said a quick goodbye and followed him outside and down the stairs. The van was sitting at the curb, engine idling, breaking the early morning silence. Dog and Heco had just finished getting TG in the back and were shutting the door.

"Wait." Lady said and jogged over, "I'll ride back there with him." She climbed up into the vehicle, easing around the bottles they'd shifted out of the way and shut the sliding door.

Heco lifted his head a little. "See you at the Roses later?"

He nodded and went to the drivers side as Spink slid out of the seat. He hadn't bothered to roll up the window earlier and it was colder inside then it should have been when he got inside the cab. The heat in the metal box on wheel was shot and he knew Lady hated the cold. Licking his bottom lip and sighing, he shrugged out of his jacket and handed it back to her.

She took the leather material with a raised brow. "Second time in less then twelve hours. You aren't turning into a gentleman on me, are you?"

"Shut up and hand me my smokes." He mumbled as he pulled off.

She did as he asked and he rolled up the window enough to keep the flame of his lighter from going out.

"You got a text." She held out his phone for him. He blew out a breath of smoke and took it from her. The Butcher had responded to his text, letting him know that the back door was open and he was ready for them. Billy closed the phone and set it between his thighs.

"If we aren't going to the ER, where are we going?" She asked after a few minutes of silence.

"To see a friend. He was a surgeon."

He heard her shift around in the back and a second later she was leaning between the two front seats. "Was?"

He shrugged. "Had a bit of a drug problem a few years ago and the medical board finally caught on and took away his license."

She raised a brow. "You were suppling him?"

"Something like that."

Obviously not impressed she settled back next to TG and crossed her arms. "Great, so he's getting patched up by a junkie."

"Actually he cleaned up." He said. "Got his act together and went into the family business."

"Yeah, what's that? Restaurant and bar hospitality?"

"Funeral homes, actually." He couldn't fight the small grin that pulled at his lips when he looked in the rearview mirror and saw the disbelief playing on her face. "He's a mortician."

Footnotes:  
[1] C10H15N: Chemical compound for methamphetamine.  
[2] Beat In: Having to fight a certain number of gang members for a given period of time and being able to take the beating and fight back. Used for initiations.  
[3] OG: Original Gangster. Older members, often involved in the founding/formation of a gang.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer**: Please see Chapter 1.

**A/N**: This has been a long time coming, I've been having computer issue after computer issue, and this particular chapter file became all kinds of corrupted, including the back-up ones. I recovered what I could and filled in the rest from memory. I'm not entirely happy with how it turned out, but it is what it is.  
All things considering, I'm just glad I was able to post what I could.

As always, reviews are love, and please forgive any grammatical mistakes. I tend to miss a lot when I self edit.

**Review Thanks & Love**:

FF[dot]net - Beccatdemon13, jbpiggy, only slightly sinister

Mr. Hedlund - Ava J, ejanea, Mookie, Diva, WiggaW, 429Boss

And LibbyLoo, I have NOT forgotten about you. Going through some changes right now, but would still love to work on a story with you If you're still game.

Chapter 3

Lady watched the back of Billy's head with narrowed eyes as he messed with the radio before finally settling on a hip-hop station. She was running her fingers through TG's too long hair, which seemed to be the only thing that kept him from groaning and flinching in pain every time the van hit a bump or took a corner too fast. Every attempt to get him to wake up was useless and she was really starting to worry. His head had taken one hell of a pounding. There was barely anything recognizable of the face of a kid that was only a few months older then her.

"_Christ_!"

Startled at first, she arched a brow at Billy's sudden outburst when he started vigorously rolling down the window before tossing out his third cigarette since they left his apartment.

"He fucking stinks. The pussy piss himself?"

She shrugged and looked down at the figure laying supine between her crossed legs, trying hard to ignore Billy's general lack of empathy. But she had noticed the ammonia like smell that clung to TG when she first crawled into the back and had been fighting very hard to suppress gagging the whole time they'd been moving. Billy's erratic driving wasn't helping her stomach much, either.

"Actually, I think someone pissed on him," she replied.

"Sucks for him," he muttered as the van slowed before coming to a complete stop. He turned to look back at them, eyes lingering longer then usual on her face before frowning. "Stay here 'till I come get you."

"You know, asking generally gets people to do things you want them to a lot easier then demanding," she said as he turned off the engine.

"Ladybug," he huffed, turning around again, "Asking has gotten me shit in life. Now stay in the god damn van 'til I get you or I'll take you over my knee and do what your mom should have done years ago."

"Guete ou![1]"

The Haitian curse slipped off her tongue before she even thought about who she was yelling at. He chuckled dryly before giving her an appraising look that made her feel like he was taking inventory. Her face heated up when he lingered on her chest and licked his bottom lip, causing it to glisten in the early morning light.

"You're sick," she ground out while crossing her arms so that the too big sleeves of his jacket covered her up, her stomach giving a funny little twist.

She was used to him teasing when he was drunk. Or high. Or on the rare occasions when he would drop his guard enough to act less like the hard-ass gang leader he was and more like a man his age: a twenty-something with the potty humor of a ten year old. But there was something about the way he was looking at her now that made her feel as if this time it was more then just ribbing. His gaze was a little too licentious. A little too raw.

She shivered slightly and knew it wasn't from the chill air. Not willing to think on what it all might mean, she was glad when he shifted to open his door.

"Need to watch what comes out your mouth. Some people might take you seriously," he said and gave her one more pointed look, brows furrowed down in consideration. "When do you turn eighteen again?"

She risked uncrossing one arm to flip him the bird and he rewarded her with a rare, shameless smile before getting out the van and slamming the door behind him.

The sound of his footsteps as he walked started to fade and she shifted into a crouch and started to clear the mess behind her away from the back doors. Except for the stuffy noise he made every time he inhaled through what was obviously a broken nose, TG had gone quiet again. She glanced at him periodically, a concerned frown on her lips as she moved bottles out of the way. It didn't sit well with her that they weren't in an ER waiting room while TG got the professional help that he needed from a qualified doctor.

She'd heard The Butcher's named tossed around in conversations before, but who he was never came up. It was just one of many things that would be flippantly brought up before someone realized she was in the room and had working ears. It had always been like that. To everyone else in Southie, from Roxbury to Mattapan, she was a RB girl. To the actual gang she was just Bodie's kid sister. It had enough pull to keep her protected, but they all made a point to only include her in their affairs when there was no other choice.

Though, for the life of her, she couldn't figure why Billy would decide to take her along on this run. And she could honestly say she didn't want to be there. Her wrist was still smarting fiercely and the scrape on her cheek was starting to dry out, leaving half of her face feeling tight and awkward. Though the sheets had obviously not been washed in awhile and the mattress was too soft for her comfort, she'd been sleeping damn good before Bodie came bursting in the room to unceremoniously wake her by pulling all the covers off.

Settling back on her rear she looked over TG again, rubbing at her stomach as it started to rumble. The last thing she had eaten was a cold hot dog with too much sauerkraut while on break during her shift at the movie theater. Which seemed like a lifetime ago considering all that had happened when, in truth, only a few hours had gone by she and Precious had been high off weed and the open promises that only the weekend could bring two teenaged girls that lived in the hood. That had all changed in the millisecond it took to pull a trigger. Now she was ankle deep in RB bullshit and, judging from the way her morning was heading so far, she was only going to sink deeper.

She heard the mechanical whine of an electric door being opened, followed by the sound of swivel wheels on cement. She pushed herself up to her knees to peer out the dirt-caked window of the double back door to see an unfamiliar man pushing a gurney that had seen better days. Billy was trailing a few steps behind, another damn cigarette hanging between his lips. She hated the things. But, knowing his lifestyle, she figured he wouldn't live long enough to have to worry about the repercussions of smoking.

"Open the door, Ladybug," Billy said, his words a little mumbled.

She reached for the handle, fighting with the rusted hinge as she muttered under her breath. "I swear, the word 'please' is like kryptonite to you."

The door finally opened with a loud protest and she stared, shocked once she got a good look at the stranger with Billy.

"_This_ is the Butcher?"

The man frowned at her before looking back at Billy. "I wish you'd cut it out with that name."

"This is Ladybug. Bodie's sister," Billy motioned, ignoring his request, "She wants to be a doctor or some shit when she's all grown up."

"Hey," she lifted up her chin in greeting while opening the other door, "Nice to finally put a name to the face."

It was a nice face, too. Younger then she imagined, with dark eyes behind wire frames. Judging by the slightly broad nose and epicanthic fold of his eyelids, she figured he was of Asian decent.

"It's Charles, actually," he greeted while abandoning the gurney to help her out of the van. "Charles Nguyen."

She took his outstretched hand and hopped down to the ground. "Thanks. Nguyen, that's Vietnamese, right?"

"Yeah." He smiled, revealing even, white teeth and a dimple in his left check. Even in the limited light she could see how attractive he was.

She shifted her feet, looking down at her wrinkled work pants and Joe's sweatshirt that had 'Give Thugs A Hug' screen-printed across peeking through Billy's to big jacket, and realized how much of a mess she must appear. Feeling embarrassed, she reached up to make sure her hair, which had become kinky and unruly from the shower earlier, was still stuffed under the skull cap she'd found in the van.

"Are you alright?"

"Huh?" She frowned, looking back up at him.

"Your wrist." He pointed at her bandaged hand that was still messing around with the cap. She jerked her arm down.

"That? Yeah, it's-"

"She's fine," Billy cut in, tossing his cigarette to the ground while giving Charles a pointed stare. "But TG's not. So why don't we get him inside and fixed up so you can go back to flirting with my friend's kid sister."

"Oh, for Christ's sake," she exclaimed, turning to point a finger at him. "You're such an insufferable bastard. Just because you're only nice when you want to get some ass you don't have to pay for doesn't mean everyone else follows your lead!"

"Shut up and hold the gurney, Lady. Butch, get his shoulders. I'll get his feet."

She rolled her eyes as Billy shouldered past them, bumping unnecessarily into Charles as he climbed into the back of the van, causing the older man to stumble back a little. She turned to apologize but he just shook his head.

"It's alright. He's just being himself," he said

"Yeah, that's the problem. He's a dick."

They shared a look before breaking out into chuckles.

"I can hear you fuckers, you know," Billy growled out from the darkness of the van. It only caused them to laugh harder.

"Alright, boss." Charles cleared his throat as he grabbed a bag off the gurney and climbed in after him, a smile still lingering on is face. "Let me get a look at what's going on then we can move him inside."

She stepped back and watched him as he checked TG's pulse, his eyes fixed on the silver watch on his left wrist before he pulled a stethoscope out of his bag. After a few minutes of moving the chestpiece around and listening to his breathing, Charles finally nodded to himself and stepped out of the van.

"His pulse is good," he said as his placed the stethoscope around his neck. "Breathing's a little rough. He might have some trauma to the lungs. Lets get him inside now so I can see things better."

She steadied the gurney as they hauled him out, Billy's head barely missing the van's door frame as he passed through with TG's ankles held tightly in his hands. Once he was in place Charles started for the door, Billy trailing behind him. She hesitated, closing the van doors with a little difficulty before jogging to catch up with them. Billy stopped at the threshold of the building, waiting for her to enter before pushing the button to have the doors close behind them. They fell into step with each other as they followed Charles across a medium sized garage into a short hallway. She looked around apprehensively, not really knowing what to expect but hoping not to see anymore bodies tonight. She had enough of the dead to last her for awhile.

Charles stopped in front a padlocked door and unclipped a set of keys from his slacks.

"I've reorganized since the last time you were here," he said as he fished through keys and found the one he was looking for. "Business has been good lately. Seems like demand has gone up the past few weeks.

Billy shrugged as the lock was undone and Charles opened the door enough to turn on the lights. "The demand's always been there. Just put word out like I promised I would."

Lady tried to peer over their shoulders to get a better look, but both men were taller and the gurney was in the way. Regardless, the room didn't look that big from what she could see. Large enough to hold an office desk and two uncomfortable looking waiting chairs. She frowned, more certain then ever that this whole setup was a bad idea.

"Billy," she said as Charles pushed the door open all the way, "Maybe we sh-"

"Just have a seat, Ladybug," he cut her off. "I'll be back in a sec."

She scowled and followed them into the tiny room, surprised to see another doorway that she hadn't been able to see from the hallway. Charles pushed TG past the desk into the dark room on the other side, Billy close behind him. She stood looking as the lights came on and revealing a neat, clinical room that reminded her a little of the doctor's office she interned at every Wednesday afternoon for her work study.

Less worried and more curious now she started to follow after them, but Billy looked back as if he read her mind and tilted his head in the direction of the chairs. His silent instructions were easy to read.

She crossed her arms. "Really? You drag me out of bed all the way here just to sit in this closet?"

"Yup."

And with that he closed the door on her.

Kicking the wood desk in a fit of immature frustration, she started to pace the small room several times before plopping down in a chair. Shrugging off Billy's jacket and pulling the cap off her head, she sighed in annoyance and ran her good fingers through her unkempt hair, trying to work out the knots. She didn't know how, but he had a way of getting under her skin that even her brother couldn't. Maybe it was the way he'd treat her like an equal one minute then start bossing her around the next like she was one of the boys. Or worse, Joe. She was tired of the confusing signals. The more the years went by the more she seemed to be immersed in the gang's life like osmosis. And the more Billy couldn't seem to make up his mind whether he wanted what little help she could give or whether he wanted her to remain as removed from the lifestyle as possible.

Just like how he shut her down quick when questioned about what was going on while at his apartment, even though she'd been a hair's breath away from a bullet-sent-message for him. Now here she was sitting in The Butcher's 'waiting room,' listening to their hushed conversation and shuffling feet on the other side of the wall, wondering why the hell she was even there.

Getting more pissed off by the second, she shoved the skullcap back onto her head with more force then was necessary and stood up, intending to go in there and find out what was what. She had barely taken two steps before the door opened again and Billy stood there with a questioning look.

"Where ya going?"

"Bathroom," she lied quickly, not even bothering to hide to anger on her face. He leaned against the doorframe and seem to look through her for a moment, the normal wrinkle formed between his brows deeper then usual. After a few seconds he exhaled heavily through his nose and stepped out the way.

"Come on and watch. Maybe you can learn some shit they aren't teaching you at school." He tilted his head with a slightly amused look. "Or do you need to piss that bad?"

Ignoring his call of her bluff, she brushed past him into the room, heading straight for the table where Charles was suturing up the cuts on TG's face with controlled precision. In the few minutes she'd been waiting in the other room they'd gotten TG stripped down to his boxers. She looked him over with a wince, seeing how bad the bruising to his chest and sides were already. He was going to hurt when he woke up. If he ever woke up.

Moving closer, she stood where she could see but not block Charles' light as she watched his glove covered hands. His movements were effortless and she thought what a waste it was that he was no longer a surgeon. Judging from the slightly longing look on his downcast face it was obvious that he'd loved what he once did. Sewing eyelids and jaws shut so they didn't fly open during funeral proceedings and plastering on makeup could not compare to having ones hands on or inside a breathing being. His life had once been saving other peoples' lives. And now he was stuck dressing the dead while occasionally playing doctor with a bunch of hoodlums.

He tied off the last stitch on TG's bottom lip before dropping the forceps onto a nearby tray and cutting of the remaining suture thread. Looking up with a sigh, he blinked, a little surprised.

"Sorry," he said with a sheepish grin. "Didn't notice you were there."

She shrugged. "Billy said I should come in."

He stared at her with the same faraway look Billy had moments before and she was starting to wonder what the hell was going on. It was on the tip of her tongue to ask if they were both high when he seemed to come back to earth and cleared his throat.

"So, you're working to go to medical school?"

"Hoping to," she said. "Though I don't know if I'll have to money for it. Might just go into nursing instead. BU has a pretty decent program for it, and the instate tuition shouldn't be too bad if I keep a job on the side."

He nodded. "Billy says you're interning at Mulligan Clinic right now. Know enough to help me out here? I could use another hand."

"Uh… yeah," she stammered, taken back because she'd always figured Billy didn't care about what she did at school at all. But not only did he know what she was doing, but the name of the place she was working at. She glanced back at the doorway where he was seemingly ignoring the pair of them, his attention focused on the cell phone in his hand.

"Wash up in the sink over there and put on some gloves," Charles said. "There's antiseptic and gauze in the cabinet over the autoclave. You can start cleaning some of these scrapes and cuts while I finish up his face."

She nodded, still watching Billy as he walked out into the waiting room, talking to whoever he'd dialed on the phone in a low voice. With a sigh she did as she was asked, pushing thoughts of him out of her mind as she went to work tending to TG.

They worked in almost silence, Charles giving her short instructions, pointing out the worst of the damage and even letting her help with a few stitches on his cheek. They weren't as neat as his own but Charles simply gave her a reassuring smile, telling her it wasn't too bad for a first timer. Almost half an hour later he pulled off his latex gloves with a snap and rubbed at his eyes under the frames of his glasses.

"We've done all we can at the moment." He looked down at TG with a frown, "Without an MRI… hell, even an X-Ray, we'll just have to wait until he wakes up."

She pulled her own gloves off and tossed them into a nearby trashcan. "Once he's up and about he can go over to Mulligan's. Monday is walk-in day. It's free, so they don't ask many questions. And as long a the person isn't shot they tend leave the cops out of it."

Charles nodded before finally looking up at her. "I'm going to head upstairs and make some coffee. You look like you need a cup as much as I do."

"Thanks," she said with a weak smile, watching as he left the room and disappeared into the hallway. Giving TG one last once-over, she headed out after Charles, finding Billy sitting in the attached room. He looked up at her when she walked in, eyes bloodshot and looking like all kinds of hell. His cell was laying on the empty chair and she handed it to him as she sat down.

"Bad call?"

He shrugged, stuffing the phone in his front pocket before propping his elbows on his knees.

"Bones."

It was all he needed to say. While she could agree that Billy deserved to get shit on occasion, no one deserved to get the kind of shit that Bones Darley could dish out. Especially his own sons.

Swallowing hard she leaned back in the chair and closed her eyes. "Charles says TG might be alright if he wakes up. Said we should keep an eye on him for the next few days."

"Fuck that," Billy sniffed. "I'm not watching him and you sure as hell can't play nurse to him the whole time. Charles can keep him here. That's what I pay the man to do."

She sat up, angry at how unconcerned he sounded and finally reaching the point where she was ready to say something about it. But she finally got a look at him, a _real _good look and the words died in her throat.

He looked tired. There was no doubt about that and she'd seen him wearing that exhaustion for far longer then she was comfortable with. It was something she'd gotten used to over the years, that weariness that somehow seemed to harden him even more.

No, it wasn't that. It was the way he sat there with his shoulders hunched and taut, his head hanging down staring at the tiled floor beneath his boots as if they held all the answers to his problems. It was the pose of a man on the edge that was contemplating how much of a fuck he gave to not just throw himself over and save whatever was pushing him the trouble.

She reached over, brushing her knuckles over the back of his neck lightly. He tensed up even more but she didn't stop, just flattened her palm over the tattooed skin and pressed her fingers into the dimples on the back of his recently shaved head. It was something she'd done to Bodie so often when he was stressed that she didn't even think about _who _exactly it was she was touching until it was already happening. Some instinct in her recognized the posture that she'd seen so many times on the people in her life. Living the way they did wasn't easy. Sometimes all it took was a gentle touch to make it just a little better.

Her mother always warned her about being too concerned and how there were certain people that just couldn't accept small comforts. Billy had always fit that to a tee, blowing her off whenever she tried to show she cared about him and the gang in any way that weren't a hot meal or a couch to crash on. She was waiting for him to shrug her off and to give her some smart ass comment that left her feeling foolish and put her in place just like any other time she'd tried to ease his burdens a little. So it was surprising when he leaned into her ministrations, slowly relaxing as her hand moved from his neck to his shoulders.

This was something new. Something completely unexpected and she didn't know how to deal. Because his guard was down in more ways then one and, as she dug her thumb into the muscles at the bass of his neck, she could swear he emitted a low moan of satisfaction. It sent a tiny volt of awareness down her spine that had her sitting up a little straighter in the plastic chair and clenching her thighs tightly together.

A voice in her head was telling her she should stop. Because this was Billy and whatever little attraction for him she'd buried way deep down was rearing it's ugly head. And his compliance was not helping in any way. His skin was too warm under her fingers and she was getting hits of aftershave, cigarette smoke and that unique smell that was just him, and it was doing strange things to her stomach.

But there was power here that she never knew she had control of. It was exhilarating and frightening at the same time. There were so many ways that he would remind her that she was just a kid, practically a nobody to him on a daily basis. Yet here she was making him damn near purr like a kitten as he leaned in a little closer, causing her chest to be flush with his back and suddenly she wanted that teasing look he'd given her earlier in the van to be the real thing.

_Shit_.

She pulled back abruptly, hand plopping down to her lap as she came back to the real world. He was Billy. Gang leader. Killer. Her brother's best friend. If that wasn't enough to bring her back down to reality, then the fact that TG was practically comatose in the other room was.

Suddenly she understood why so many women fawned over him, embarrassing themselves in ways that made her disgusted and pity them at the same time. He had a way of drawing people in, even with his attitude that screamed 'stay the fuck back.'

Billy Darley was dangerous. In more ways then one. And she had to keep reminding herself of that fact. She wouldn't get stuck in whatever spell he weaved, whether it was unconscious on his part or not.

Though that internal conclusion didn't help at all when he stretched, causing the shirt he was wearing to tighten around his shoulders and biceps before he muttered an almost inaudible, "Thanks, Jeanne."

And there went that tightening in her stomach again as she watched him stand and walk into the room where TG lay, leaving her alone with an accelerated pulse and the sudden realization that she may be developing a crush on him.

The fact that she was considering that the most disturbing thing to happen to her in the past 24 hours worried her even more.

Sinking down in her chair she took a deep breath and let it out slowly just as Charles returned, carrying three steaming Styrofoam cups in his hands. He walked towards her, frowning at whatever expression was playing on her face.

"Sorry, I'm out of creamer," he said as he offered her a cup.

She took it with a shrug. "'s okay."

She could feel him studying her as she blew on the hot liquid a moment before taking a cautionary sip. Raising her eyes, she gave him a pointed look that clearly told him to back off.

Thankfully, he was smart enough to take the hint. "Where'd Billy go."

She pointed to the other room in instead of speaking and he left without a backwards glance. She stayed just the way she was, sipping her coffee and listening to another hushed conversation in the other room. Billy's voice was more recognizable, deeper and whiskey worn compared to Charles, who had no trace of that nasally New England accent. She couldn't make out what they were speaking about and didn't much care. All she wanted was food and sleep, with the hope that it would clear her head some and help her get over whatever messed up things she shouldn't be feeling.

When Billy finally stepped out of the room she had only half a cup of coffee left.

"Let's go, Lady," he announced, "And don't forget my leather."

She tossed the cup and grabbed his jacket before following him back to the van, stealing glances at him to see whatever vulnerability he'd shown in the waiting room was long gone. He was all clenched jaw and furrowed brow again, and it helped ground her even more to the here and now.

As they waited for the garage door to open she took the time to slip into his jacket, chilled already and cursing her Caribbean blood. Not for the first time, she wondered why her mother decided to move to Boston of all places. It wasn't even officially fall yet and she was already shivering.

Sliding her hands in the jacket sleeves, she felt her stomach rumble. "I'm hungry."

"So?" He stepped under the still raising door into the crisp, early morning sunlight.

"_So_?" she huffed, half jogging to keep up with him, "I've been shot at, tackled and deprived of sleep. I watched a man die and might be the cause of another persons death all because you didn't want to take him to a hospital."

"It's there a point here, Lady?"

She nodded, ignoring the obvious irritation in his voice. "Yeah. The least you can do is buy a girl breakfast."

His eyes narrowed as he stopped and looked down at her. After a moment he continued on to the van, fishing the keys out of his jean pocket.

"Billy-".

"Get your ass in the van Ladybug, or I'm leaving you here with the Chink and the corpses."

"He's not Chinese you racist prick!"

Her protest fell on deaf ears and she took another deep breath before heading to the passenger door. Maybe it was lack of sleep on both their parts back in there, because there was no way she could have even entertained the thought about crushing on a guy like him. _This _was the Billy she knew. Whatever she saw and felt in that waiting room was best forgotten because there was little doubt she'd ever see that other Billy again.

"No weakness," she muttered as she pulled open the van door and climbed in. He gave her a glare before turning over the engine. She rolled her eyes and made a point to look out the window, trying her best to ignore him as they pulled away.

* * *

Footnotes:

[1] Guete ou: KreyÚl (Haitian creole) for "fuck you.


End file.
